


Blood of the Enemy

by yordanski1997



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yordanski1997/pseuds/yordanski1997
Summary: What had Wormtail said about his blood? A flash of a silver dagger and it clicked.I give my blood willingly, take it, use it.Harry had no idea if this would work, but he had to try.Harry attempts to thwart Voldemort's plans in the graveyard by offering his blood willingly to the ritual, only to find that things aren't always this simple.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 61
Kudos: 783





	1. Willingly Given

**Author's Note:**

> Hi to anyone who might run across this story, this is my first fanfiction since I was probably 13, so I'm hoping I actually have the ability to write something half-decent a decade later. I had a weird plot bunny take root in my head at three in the morning and here we are, let me know if this is something anyone has an interest in me continuing. Hope you enjoy this mini-chapter. Also, the beginning text in italics is taken directly from Goblet of Fire, it is not mine and is simply there for anyone who needs a quick reminder of where we're at in the story.
> 
> Please note that this story is not beta'd. I'll do my best to catch errors and feel free to let me know.

What had Wormtail said about his blood? A flash of a silver dagger and it clicked. __I give my blood willingly, take it, use it._ _ Harry had no idea if this would work, but he had to try.

***

_Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost past endurance, please … let it drown …_

_Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook, he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. ‘Bone of the father. Unknowingly given, you will renew your son!’_

_The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command, and fell softly into the cauldron._ _The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue._

_And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs. 'Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master.' He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward._

_Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened - he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry couldn't stand to look . . . but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry's closed eyelids. . . ._

_Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him._

_'B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will. . . resurrect your foe.' Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly._

***

Harry tried his best to think through his blind panic, watching the rat mutter his way through the ritual. He let his body go limp in the stone embrace of the statue he had been tied to, willing his mind to find a way out.

What had Wormtail said about his blood? A flash of a silver dagger and it clicked. _I give my blood willingly, take it, use it._ Harry had no idea if this would work, but he had to try.

Wormtail's remaining hand plunged the dagger into Harry’s right arm, causing red lines of blood to pool down his wrist and through his open fingers. Wormtail dropped the dagger and rooted around in his robes for a small glass vile, which he clumsily used to collect the escaping blood.

Wormtail scuttled back to the cauldron and poured in Harry’s blood. The liquid within turned a deep red, slightly darker than its final ingredient. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing. 

The cauldron erupted into a boil, the liquid inside going darker still and beginning to emit a smell Harry found disturbingly pleasant as a warm sensation began to prickle around his scar.

Nothing happened… Had it drowned? Harry thought, attempting to quash the growing feeling that this would be a bad thing. 

All at once, the liquid in the cauldron surged into the air as thick burgundy steam, leaving the cauldron absolutely empty.

Wormtail looked around for his master, beady eyes scouring the graveyard. When no such sign of the dark wizard was apparent, he let out a pitiful yelp and disappeared with a sharp crack of apparition.

The strange warmth had not left his scar, and Harry could still smell that disturbingly pleasant odor from before, it felt like it had stuck to his clothes and skin.

He had fallen to the ground the moment Wormtail was gone from the muggle graveyard and he lay there for several long moments looking into Cedric's dead grey eyes. It felt disturbingly quiet for a place that had seemed so loud with activity mere moments before.

Harry reared back, light was beginning to stir behind Cedric’s eyes that had been assuredly blank mere seconds ago. Something was wrong with them, their normal warmth seemed to be warring with something much more sinister, they had almost appeared to flash red for the briefest of seconds. 

'Cedric?' Harry asked, reaching out his left hand to touch the now clenched hand of the other boy. 

Harry encountered warm sparks beneath his fingers and, all at once, Cedric’s body went limp. 

Without wasting another moment, Harry grabbed the other boys limp body and called out a quick _accio_ to the cup, feeling the usual tug behind his navel as he and Cedric were whisked back to the Hogwarts grounds.

***

Harry’s body slammed into the ground but his head was pillowed on Cedric’s chest, under which Harry could feel the reassuring beat of the other boy's heart. 

It took a long moment before Harry could hear the deafening noise coming from the stands over the roaring in his own ears. Desperately he held onto the cup in one hand while his other grasped tighter around Cedric’s still form. 

A pair of rough hands attempted to pull Harry around but he clung tighter to the body under him, needing to feel the warmth that radiated through Cedric.

‘Harry! Harry!’

He looked up at the spectacular robes of one Albus Dumbledore, starring blearily at the man through green eyes that he was only beginning to realize were wet with unshed tears.

With a deep inhale, Harry attempted to regain control and forced himself to sit up and away from the unconscious boy beneath him. 

A spark of pain radiated out from Harry’s scar and throughout his entire being, down into his core.

‘Voldemort’ was all Harry was able to mutter before unconsciousness claimed him.


	2. White Lies and Cover Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose writing my term papers would have been a more advantageous way to spend my day, but I'd wager this is preferable to anyone reading and to my mental state, so here we are. I don't know how often I'll be able to update but if inspiration keeps striking as it has, hopefully, I'll be able to shot out the third chapter relatively soon. Well, to those still reading this, I've kept you long enough.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy chapter two.

**Last time...**

_Harry’s body slammed into the ground but his head was pillowed on Cedric’s chest, under which Harry could feel the reassuring beat of the other boy's heart._

_It took a long moment before Harry could hear the deafening noise coming from the stands over the roaring in his own ears. Desperately he held onto the cup in one hand while his other grasped tighter around Cedric’s still form._

_A pair of rough hands attempted to pull Harry around but he clung tighter to the body under him, needing to feel the warmth that radiated through Cedric._

_‘Harry! Harry!’_

_He looked up at the spectacular robes of one Albus Dumbledore, starring blearily at the man through green eyes that he was only beginning to realize were wet with unshed tears._

_With a deep inhale, Harry attempted to regain control and forced himself to sit up and away from the unconscious boy beneath him._

_A spark of pain radiated out from Harry’s scar and throughout his entire being, down into his core._

_‘Voldemort’ was all Harry was able to mutter before unconsciousness claimed him too._

***

When Harry next woke, it was to the familiar crisp white colour and antiseptic scent of the hospital wing.

Blearily Harry reached his hand out to feel across the bedside table for his glasses, which he shoved unceremoniously onto his nose, bringing the figure he hadn’t noticed in the chair by his bedside into stark relief.

‘Profes… Professor Moody?’ Harry queried, wondering idly why his professor had taken up residence at his bedside and trying to clear the fog in his brain.

‘What went wrong?’ The professor asked, his sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through Harry, the low tone of the man leaving the boy distinctly unsettled.

‘Professor wha-’ Harry was cut off by the sharp screeching sound as Moody pushed his chair back and began to pace.

Harry studied the professor’s lopsided gate beside his bed, noting a manic glint in Moody’s eyes that made Harry cringe away.

The man's gaze sharpened on Harry once again and for one terrifying moment the boy was completely unsure of what would happen next.

It was with rough hands that Moody reached out to grab ahold of Harry’s arm, his strong grip bunching the sleeve of his pajama shirt out of the way.

‘The mark is here, I don’t understand it.’ He leaned in close to Harry’s arm, almost seeming to sniff it. ‘Blood of the enemy’ the crazed wizard intoned as Harry attempted to recoil from him, not quite managing to break his grip. 

Moody grinned eerily at him. ‘I can smell the dark magic on you boy.’

Harry looked over at the bedside table for his wand but the professor, who Harry had come to realize was dangerously barmy, must have hidden it.

‘Sir?’ Harry ventured. ‘If I could have my arm back?’ 

Moody threw the offending limb away from himself and Harry massaged the place where the professor's fingertips had surely left bruises.

‘The Dark Lord did not call his dear ones back to him.’ The mad man raved. ‘I can feel his magic but surely he would call me. His most loyal. His most deserving.’

A twisted realization was beginning to creep over Harry. 

‘You? You’re one of his...? Did you..? You put my name in the cup. But you’re-’ A cruel laugh cut off Harry’s shocked awareness. 

‘Did you really think you could have survived this tournament if I hadn’t been there to hold your hand the whole way boy?’ The man gave a cruel laugh. ‘What I can’t seem to figure out is how you managed to thwart my Lord’s return.’ His magical eye seemed to pierce Harry through.

‘You’re mad.’ Harry couldn’t quite help but say. ‘You’re off your bloody rocker.’

‘Mad!?’ Moody barked, eyeing Harry’s unprotected form and drawing his wand. ‘Mad am I? We’ll see who’s mad when I find the Dark Lord and bring him back. When I present to him whatever’s left of the great Harry Potter.’ 

Moody pointed his wand towards Harry, who searched desperately for some way to defend himself. 

Then came the flash of green light, but not from the direction Harry had been expecting. He sat stupidly for a long moment, coming to grips with the fact that he very much did not feel dead.

Yes, Harry was very much alive, but the same could not be said for Moody. The man's face was frozen in shock and the piercing blue magical eye was still spinning wildly.

Cedric was sitting up in his bed across from Harry, a steel glint in his eyes and his wand still pointed towards the dead Moody.

All at once the hospital wing became a flurry of activity. The doors to the infirmary sprung open to reveal Dumbledore, followed closely by a harried McGonagall and an irate Professor Snape. The door to Madam Pomfrey's personal chambers was also thrown wide as the matron appeared, clutching a nightgown around her sleep ruffled form. 

The four adults paused for only a moment, staring from Harry’s panicked form, to the dead professor at his feet, and then over to Cedric, who was looking at the wand in his hands with no small amount of shock in his gaze.

‘Mr.Diggory?’ McGonagall's usually stern tone was laced with a soft horror.

‘He was-?’ Cedric cut off abruptly, confusion warring in his grey eyes, a note of bewildered disorientation slipping into his tone.

‘He was trying to kill me.’ Harry cut in abruptly, ‘Cedric he.. he saved my life. Moody, he… I think he worked for Voldemort.’

The professors starred in open-mouthed shock from the green-eyed boy in the bed to the dead man at his feet, moving cautiously toward the now lifeless body in order to examine it. 

So consumed in their work, it was only Harry who noticed the gleam starting to creep back into Cedric's eyes, warring with the confusion. It was a gleam that made his insides go funny, almost like the way he felt right before a quidditch match, when the anticipation of flight was almost too much to bear.

So locked were Harry and Cedric in their impromptu staring match, that they both started when Snape made a disgusted noise.

‘Polyjuice.’ The greasy-haired man stated simply, holding an odd flask to his hooked nose.

***

It didn’t take long for the Aurors to arrive, followed closely by an irate Minister Fudge who seemed none to pleased with the Dark Lord’s name being flung about. 

It seemed the minister was convinced that the actions of the imposter Moody had been an isolated incident, that the man had taken advantage of their poor young saviour and had tried to convince the boy of the Dark Lords' eminent return.

‘No one can truly blame you boy.’ The minister said condescendingly. ‘You’ve been manipulated by those far older and smarter.’ He puffed up his chest, as if to say he clearly belonged to the latter category. The sentiment was followed by an irritating ruffle to Harry’s hair.

Harry grit his teeth, he rather thought the man in front of him had swallowed one too many befuddlement drafts and was about to tell the man so when he caught Cedric’s eye across the room, being interviewed by a magenta haired Auror with his father by his bedside. 

The other boy looked annoyed with the whole situation and was glaring at the minister, whose hands were still in Harry’s messy hair, but he shot him a reassuring smile and rolled his eyes at the blustering man by Harry’s bedside, as if to say that Harry was above such petty arguments. 

Cedric's father, on the other hand, glared daggers at Harry, making it clear that he did not share his son's sentiments and would be quite satisfied if his son had let the mad not-Moody have his way with the boy.

The two Hogwarts students spent the next hour being questioned by several different Aurors, all clamoring to ask the same questions which were answered several times with growing annoyance. 

At some point, Harry had had his wand handed to him by an oily looking Auror who had seemed far too excited to be holding the wand of boy saviour. 

Harry, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, waited until the man had turned away to inspect his wand and to surreptitiously wipe away the Aurors greasy fingerprints with his pajama sleeve.

Harry had only altered his story once, when he’d been about to mention the sickly green killing curse that he had witnessed strike Cedric in the chest. 

The other boy had looked to Harry with such sharp alarm that he had quickly changed directions, claiming the other boy to have been knocked unconscious by an unknown spell from Wormtail.

Just over the hour mark, the Aurors had seemed quite ready to reopen the questioning again and Harry shot a baleful look to the Matron who jumped into action, shooing the adults from the room. 

Harry was quite happy with this development, feeling as if he would curse somebody if they asked him one more inane question. He was exhausted and there was a tension building in his temples that he was sure even a headache potion would have trouble fighting.

The last to leave was an angry Amous Diggory who seemed determined to take his son home, despite Cedric’s assurance that he was fine under the matrons care. The nurse had to all but hex the man out the door but with a quick wave of her wand, the entry was warded and the room fell quiet. 

With a firm demand that her patients get some rest and some quiet muttering about what Harry had thought had sounded like ‘a stiff drink’ Madam Pomfrey closed the door to her private chambers, leaving the two boys to stare at each other from their respective beds.

***

Harry wasn’t quite sure where to start. The boy in the other bed seemed to be suffering a similar affliction, something unfamiliar warring in his expression.

‘You.. er-’ Harry attempted. He wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He noticed Cedric steel himself, eyeing the green-eyed boy critically.

‘You didn’t tell them.’ Cedric stated.

‘Tell them what?’ Harry asked obtusely, racking his brain for something the Aurors and incompetent Minister hadn’t managed to pull from him. 

Cedric snorted in a very un-Cedric like way. ‘Perhaps that you watched me take a killing curse to the chest and live to tell the tale?’

‘Oh, that.’ Harry said with a sigh, reaching his hand to his face in order to push the round-framed glasses up his nose.

‘Yes.’ Cedric said with a guarded tone. ‘That.’

Harry and Cedric looked each other over. Harry had wondered himself why he should lie about Cedric's apparent miraculous immunity to the dark spell, but the look the other boy had given him had left no room for argument. Staring into the grey eyes across from him, Harry knew he’d do it again.

Cedric seemed to be studying Harry rather intently, and Harry couldn’t help but squirm under the older boy's gaze. 

He must have been satisfied with what he saw in Harry though, because before the green-eyed boy realized what was happening, Cedric had swung his feet over the side of the bed and was padding over to Harry.

‘Cedric wha-?’ Harry’s question had been cut off by Cedric’s warm hand over his mouth.

‘Shhh.’ Cedric intoned, waving his other hand, now holding his wand, in complicated patterns around the pare. 

Harry was starting to become very impatient with the number of times he’d been silenced by people today. He would have pulled away, if not for the warmth that seemed to radiate from the Hufflepuff’s hand, soothing the pain in his temples and calming his mind.

Cedric, seeming satisfied with his work, stowed his wand in his pocket and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed. He was leant in so his hand could remain on Harry’s mouth and he ignored the chair by the foot of the bed altogether.

Suddenly, the air felt very charged. Cedric slowly removed his hand from Harry’s face but didn’t move away, still leaning in toward Harry.

All thought seemed to vacate Harry’s mind. He had questions, he was sure, but he couldn’t quite bring any one of them to mind.

Cedric too seemed to be warring some internal battle, starring to where his hand had only recently vacated with a confused furrow to his brow.

‘You? Ahhh..?’ Harry tried unsuccessfully to speak, but it did seem to pull Cedric from whatever had just been troubling him. Harry watched as the other boy's brow smoothed out, as Cedric sat back a little with what seemed like no small effort.

The older boy seemed to be considering his options as he looked over the form of one Harry James Potter. 

Cedric seemed to steal himself. ‘We have much to discuss.’ The older boy stated, and just like that, Harry Potter’s life was irrevocably changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are. I had hoped to make my chapter's slightly longer and will try to in the future but this felt like a good place to stop and hopefully, the next chapter will be better for it.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed, constructive criticism, ideas for the future, and just general opinions are always welcomed in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks, guys! See you next time.


	3. Unforeseen Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cedric open's up about all that happened in the graveyard and Harry makes some startling observations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the delay in updating but this whole COVID thing has thrown us all for a loop. The length isn't quite what I wanted but I figured it's better to post something than nothing. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for the encouragement.

Silence could be shockingly loud, Harry thought as he stared at Cedric. The older boy was eyeing him critically, and Harry wasn’t quite sure how to react to it. It wasn’t as if he particularly disliked the other boy's gaze, but the grey eyes seemed to see through to his very core. He could not suppress the slight shudder that rolled through him under the intense look. 

When Cedric finally did break the silence, he also broke their impromptu starring match. Cedric allowed his gaze to stray down to his hospital wing bed, tracing the flower print with long and elegant fingers. 

Had Cedric’s fingers always looked like that? Harry wondered idly. The older teen seemed to have the hands of a pianist, or a skilled artist. There was just something of power in each digit of his fingers. Harry was unsure how he had never noticed them before.

Harry allowed his eyes to drift up the other boy's pale arms and to his neck, noting critically the subtleties he had never quite noted. Was there something different about Cedric? Or had he been blind before? To the snakelike veins of the other boy's arms, to the pulse Harry could see beating a steady rhythm in Cedric’s neck.

‘I did die.’ Cedric said quietly, breaking Harry from his thoughtful musings. ‘I didn’t even realize I was dead at first.’ The long digits of Cedric’s fingers moved closer to Harry’s, tracing idly another flower on the sheets and giving Harry time to digest what Cedric had just admitted.

For several long seconds, Harry wasn’t sure what to think at all. Then, all at once, he could feel the morbid questions rising in himself, threatening to drown him in their persistence. 

Harry could feel them trying to escape him all at once but, not wanting to upset the other boy, he bit them back with a concerted effort.

Cedric looked up and surprised Harry by letting out a deep chuckle, unlike any sound he had heard the boy utter before. This sound was rich and earthy, with just the slightest undercurrent of something more sinister. Usually, Cedric’s laugh was bright and joyful, this new sound made an odd yearning pool in the pit of Harry’s stomach.

‘I can see the questions in your eyes.’ Cedric lifted his hand, as if to brush away the hair falling into Harry’s eyes, but aborted the motion almost as quickly as he had begun it, seemingly shocked by his own traitorous hand.

Something of Harry’s disappointment must have shown in his face, however, because Cedric let out another brief chuckle and allowed his long fingers to brush back the raven hair. Harry couldn’t help but shudder again as the fingers caused his scar to tingle pleasantly, and wasn’t that odd?

Cedric’s hand continued to cart through Harry’s messy hair in an almost irreverent way. Both boys seemed to know that their new intimacy was strange, but neither seemed particularly inclined to stop it.

‘After I died, I woke up in a waiting room’ Cedric began again, seemingly emboldened by his proximity to the younger boy. ‘It reminded me of one of the ones at the ministry. When I was young, my mother and I would meet my father at his work. We’d always wait in a room like that. But it was… cleaner? Brighter somehow.’ The boy's grey eyes had a vacant sort of quality to them but there was a sharp sort of quality to them that seemed vaguely unnatural.

Harry was quite unsure of how to respond. What do you say to someone who had come back from the afterlife, which supposedly was nothing more thrilling than a thoroughly scrubbed and well lit ministry waiting room?

‘I saw my grandmother.’ Cedric said quietly, sparring Harry his response. ‘We had always been close when I was growing up.’ A warm smile softened the tension that had been creeping into his expression, making him appear more like himself than Harry had seen since Cedric had returned to the land of the living.

‘I had so many questions, we sat and talked for what felt like a very long time but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes' Cedric paused and seemed to be collecting himself. ‘She told me I had a choice that could change the fate of the wizarding world.’

Harry had a sinking feeling that this had something to do with him. Why did it always have to be about him?

‘She told me that if I chose to come back, I’d have the chance to put the wizarding world to rights’ Cedric let out a small frustrated huff. ‘Everything was so cryptic, but she told me that if I returned it would be the most difficult thing I’d ever do.’ Here Cedric seemed to hesitate and his hand paused in its journey through Harry’s messy locks.

‘She told me that the choice was mine but if I choose to move on then I’d be leaving you to an unimaginable fate.’ The two boys stared at each other critically. ‘I couldn’t leave you to that.’ Cedric admitted.

‘Cedric’ Harry began to say, but he was still at a loss for anything to say. Instead, he reached out and tentatively let his hand fall on the other boy's knee. 

Cedric’s hand left Harry’s hair to instead rest on top of Harry’s. Harry felt the warm pressure as Cedric squeezed the hand under his.

‘There’s more Harry.’ Cedric looked more than a little lost. ‘I don’t feel like me. Or at least not completely.’

Harry could see it, the two natures that seemed to reside in Cedric. He’d noticed it before, the way that the other boy would hold himself with a rigid posture and cool mask of composure, contrasting with the softness that would light up his face only moments later. 

His looks had changed too, Harry noted mentally. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed Cedric before, no one could ever be unaware of the charismatic hufflepuff, but there was something else. Cedric had an unrestrained aura about him that was like a drug to Harry.

‘I have all these fragmented memories. They come in waves and I lose control of myself.’ Cedric looked slightly distraught. ‘I don’t know what's happening to me.’

The lost and pleading tone of Cedric was like a knife in his gut, he would have done anything to calm the boy who came back from the dead just for Harry. 

Cedric was not the first to die for Harry, though he was the first to come back for him. This was a favour Harry would never, could never, repay.

Harry reached out and wrapped his arms around the other boy, who let out a choked sound and fell into the embrace. Harry could all but feel the other boy's warring thoughts in Cedric. He would tense, calm, and tense again into the embrace.

Harry simply tightened his hold on the older boy and let him take what he needed. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but the other boys breathing softened and gradually, his hold slackened around Harry’s neck.

Harry leaned further back into his pillows, letting Cedric fall gently against him. This wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, as Cedric was still quite taller than Harry himself, but Harry would not have traded this for anything. He studied the other boys face intently, which looked quite different in its sleep-slackened state. 

There was a lot to digest in everything Harry had just learned. He did wonder why Cedric would want to keep this all to himself. He was sure that there was something that the other boy was keeping from him but he couldn’t figure out what. Surely Dumbledore could help them figure all this out, perhaps he’d broach the subject in the morning.

Harry reached out a hand to trace the features of Cedric and, unobstructed by the myriad of expressions Cedric seemed to wear since his brief time in the afterlife, Harry could better note the subtle changes. 

The other boy’s face looked thinner, somehow more aristocratic. It was subtle but undeniable. Had he looked like this earlier? It was hard to tell with the flurry of activity that had overwhelmed Harry since the end of the third task, but he could swear he would have noticed.

Thoughts still churning, Harry let himself too slip into unconsciousness.

***

Harry was awoken to an angry tutting sound. It was an irritating sort of noise, like an insect that would buzz around his head, ignoring his feeble attempts to ward it off. 

Though he would have much preferred to fall back into unconsciousness, the irritating tutting was soon followed by an abrupt cold. The heavy blanket that had been securely wrapped around him, seemed to be all at once taken away.

Harry groaned and forced his eyes open while reaching blindly for his glasses on the bedside table. When he found the cold metal frames of his glasses he shoved them on his nose, only to be confronted with an irate Madam Pomfrey. 

As the room came into focus, so too did the memories of the previous evening. What he had thought had been a blanket had really been Cedric, who must have spent the entire night wrapped up in Harry’s arms. 

The matron, who was muttering about ‘hormonal, love-sick teenagers’ had her wand trained on Cedric, who was sputtering indignantly as she levitated the seventh-year back into his own bed.

Harry couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the expression of pure shock on the other boy’s face, though it was quickly cut off by a poisonous look thrown by the hospital’s matron.

‘Sorry Madam Pomfrey.’ Harry said charmingly, now seated in an upright position and smiling beatifically at the nurse. ‘Cedric wanted to talk last night about the final task and I guess we fell asleep.’ His tone grew slightly sheepish at the end and he ran a hand through his messy hair, which was somehow standing up more than usual.

The matron sighed good-naturedly. ‘Honestly boy.’ She began. ‘You’d think it was my first day in charge of this wing.’ She dropped Cedric unceremoniously on his bed and moved away to her potions cupboard, muttering all the way.

Harry looked at Cedric, expecting to find him laughing or looking guilty. Instead, there was something in his eyes all too familiar to Harry, something he never would have thought to see on the kind Hufflepuff's face.

The expression Cedric wore was one of unadulterated loathing, twisted and dark. It was the look a monster would wear as it stocked its offending victim into a dark alley. This was the expression that plagued Harry’s nightmares, right up to the flash of red that overtook the normally stormy grey eyes.

Harry leant away from the terrifying sight, but just as Cedric’s eyes turned to face Harry directly, the expression vanished, leaving nothing but confusion and pain in the glance. 

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to think, wasn’t quite sure he’d even seen what he’d thought he had. More frighteningly, it seemed he was more concerned for the pain in those eyes, than for the previous hate.

Madam Pomphry returned, levitating five stoppered vials, two of which went to Harry, three to the baffled Cedric. He gave a tentative smile to the Matron as he dutifully took his potions. 

Harry watched the interaction with interest, looking for any sign of the monster he’d glimpsed, but the closest thing he received was a stern matron demanding he take his own potions.

Harry forced the incident from his mind and decided his abrupt awakening must have caused the apparent illusion. Cedric seemed alright, if a bit shaken. Of course he’d be acting strangely, it wasn’t just anyone who could come back from the dead.

Harry couldn’t quite shake the image, though it warred with the pain he’d seen afterward.

When both boys had both taken their potions under Madam Pomfrey’s stern eye, she scurried off to deal with a bloody nosed Lee Stevns who had just stumbled into the ward. 

Harry’s eyes drifted easily back to Cedric. The Hufflepuff was already looking at Harry with the kind of tenderness the green-eyed-boy had so rarely received in his life. 

This, more than anything, calmed Harry of any lingering worry. So long as Cedric looked at him like this, Harry felt he must be safe. He could forgive any expression if this were to follow.

Harry was quite sure he was going mad but couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a new warmth in his heart that seemed directly dependent on Cedric’s happiness. 

Harry wasn’t sure what any of this meant. The only thing he could be sure of now was that there was no way he could lose the other boy. This boy who had given his life for Harry, who had given his afterlife too. 

He knew now that neither could live if the other were not to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the short length. I really am going to try to get these things longer, or at least update more frequently. As always, I love to hear from you guys. I haven't done too much creative writing in my life so I welcome criticism, plot suggestions, character observations, etc. Thanks to all that take the time to read this, I'll see if I can't throw another chapter together soon.


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